Erised
by weasley-twins-41
Summary: Behind Snape's usually insulting manner, there is something more. There is another part of him that grieves for another. A side of himself he hasn't shown in ten years. Oneshot. HP7 spoilers, takes place in Sorcerer's Stone.


**Hey! I've taken sudden interest in the relationship between Lily and Severus. SOOO I decided to do a story about it! Behind Snape's normally strict, insulting manner, there is something more. There is another side of him that grieves for another. A side of himself he hasn't shown in ten years. It has to do with Harry's very first night at Hogwarts- at the feast. It's mildly depressing, but I couldn't resist doing this one. I know I'm supposed to be working on "The Tales of Zuko" (and trust me, I am) but I had to do this one. ENJOY! And don't forget I accept anonymous reviews! (It means you can review even if you don't have a fanfiction :D ) **

I was almost absolutely sure I was dreaming.

I knew the boy was coming; Dumbledore had informed me upon the last day of term during the summer. Dumbledore had strictly warned me not to jump to conclusions and immediately loathe the boy and suspect he would be like his father- someone who-

_'No,' _I firmly scolded myself. Ever since that day, ever since _she _had vanished forever, I swore to myself I would never think of her again. She was never coming back. I would never hear her voice again.

Dumbledore had warned me, but I still loathed the boy, from his messy black hair to his scuffed shoes. I stared ferociously at the child that was almost an exact replica of the man I hated so much.

Only two things set the boy apart. One thing was the red lightning-bolt scar on his forehead, barely visible under his black hair.

The other thing was something that would never fail to make my heart stop.

Lily's- my heart nearly stopped again as I thought of the name I hadn't thought of for ten years- perfect green eyes were copied exactly into the boy's face.

I glared venomously at the boy. He stared uncertainly back, and then pressed his fingers to his scar for the oddest reason.

The boy turned away from my furious gaze. I still stared at him with inexplicable rage. The phrase '_if looks could kill_' suddenly materialized in my head.

I dwelled on that subject far too long.

It felt too much like _she_ was here tonight. The memory of her slowly tore itself into me. It gouged out a long-healed, scarred over gash into me, reminding me a thousand times over her death was _my fault entirely_. I missed her too much, and the boy reminded me of her, and yet, the man I hated so much as well.

As I stared at the Potter boy with such ferocity it shouldn't be legal, cold, angry beads of moisture gathered in my eyes. This hadn't happened to me in ten years and I wondered, _'why tonight of all nights of forever?' _

The sudden urge to flee the Great Hall stuck me hard and stuck. I wanted to flee and dash to the room with the mirror that let me see _her_. I hadn't been to the mirror since the last anniversary of her death, and I had vowed that was the only night in the year I would do so, but tonight I felt too great a need to. It took everything I had not to do so at the moment. My fingers clenched around the wood of the table, my knuckles turning a deathly pale. The teachers next to me stared at me curiously.

The agony in my heart seared on.

_'Muffliato,'_ I whispered. I could have just used a Disillusionment Charm, but it felt as if I used my own spells, I'd be closer to her.

I was silent anyway as I crept through the hallways. The first thing I would do if I saw anyone- and I mean _quite literally _anyone- is perform a Full Body Bind spell. I knew it was a spell fit for a first year, and I had excelled far, far, _far_ beyond that, but I didn't care at all.

I knew the way by heart, and I could walk there in my sleep. Soon I reached the corridor that that held the room with the enchanted mirror, and my footsteps quickened eagerly.

I rushed to the door and murmured, _'Alohomora.' _

Running into the room, as soon as it was open, I dashed to the tall mirror at the back corner of the abandoned classroom.

The white moonlight filtered gently into the room and shattered off the mirror. I stood still in front of it, and for a moment, I saw only myself: black straight hair framed around a pale face with a hooked nose, a man with black robes and black emotionless eyes. Then, just very briefly, I saw the boy at my feet, a purple lump on his forehead, and his stomach not moving with breath. I knew how the mirror worked. My heart's desire at the moment must have been to see the end of the boy, but that was preposterous. He was only a boy, and I would never commit such a thing, now that my Death Eater days were long over.

I stared intently at the mirror, and everything became clear again.

I saw _her_.

The image of Lily in the mirror would never fail to shatter me into a thousand pieces. I would see her in the mirror once every year, and I would shatter. I was currently in the process of mending, and this hurt far more than any other time.

I gnawed my lip to keep myself from screaming.

I saw Lily, but she wasn't alone. I saw myself grinning, and I and an arm wrapped around her shoulders, with her head on my shoulder. I was a different man in the mirror.

And then Lily was alone once more.

This time, I could take it no longer.

A sound of hurt escaped my mouth, and I rested my palms against the glass of the mirror. My knees gave out, and they hit the stone floor with a dull _thud_. Why did this hurt as much as it did? It was ten years ago that it happened! A normal person would have hauled themselves through the grieving process already and moved on, but it was entirely different for me. I'd had her stolen from me.

_I had caused her death_.

I told myself a thousand times that I didn't know the Dark Lord would pick _her,_ and that is wasn't my fault, but _his_, but it never eased my burden at all.

My fingers curled against the glass into fists, and my fingernails pierced my skin. I vaguely glimpsed Lily's image kneel next to me. I could feel her hands on mine, trying to smooth out my clenched fists.

That was too much for me.

A cold tear slid slowly down my face as I stared at her. She gave me a sad smile and I felt her hand on my face, trying to wipe that tear away. My skin did not yield to her imaginary fingers; her fingers didn't wipe away the bead of moisture slowly making its way to my chin. I swear I saw a silver tear escape down her heart-shaped face.

I pressed my forehead to the glass, and I did something I hadn't done in ten years.

I would never stop loving Lily Evans.


End file.
